


A Paper Mask

by indecisiveauthor (ComposerEgg)



Series: Paper And Glass Don't Mix [1]
Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: AU-normal life, Angst, Cancer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerEgg/pseuds/indecisiveauthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joshua had been planning to confess on this date, ever since he'd arranged it just before his trip to the hospital, three weeks ago. A shame that death decided to pay him a visit, because dying people don't get to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Paper Mask

_I love you._

I want to say, want to say those words. I want to say them to the boy sitting across from me in this cafe, this cafe where the lights glow yellow and the aroma of coffee floats around us like dust in the air, illuminated by rays of the sun through clear windows.

I want to say those words, but I can’t.

Wouldn’t it just be grand? Living in a world where you could confess your love on Saturday and _not_ be dead by Wednesday?

“Hey Josh!? Are ya listening?” he asks, and my head snaps up to look at him, smiling and nodding.

“Yeah, I am, you were talking about coming up with a pen-name, right? I don’t see _why_ you’d need one, dear, I think Neku is a beautiful name.” I get an eye-roll for saying that. “Fine, why do you want another name then?”

Neku grins, and as he moves to kneel on the cheap red cushioning of the booth he takes out his sketchbook, setting it down like the holy grail. His spiky orange hair wouldn’t stop bouncing like a kid on a trampoline, and I just chuckle, shaking my head at his enthusiasm.

“Well you see, it’s kinda to keep my art life separate from my real one, I could be an enigma, just like CAT! And you could secretly know it’s me and taunt people about your super inside knowledge! I’m sure you’d love doing that.”

I smile and nod, but it feels flimsy, one of those construction paper masks too easily destroyed by the hands of others, but impossible to see through. “Yeah, that’d be fun to do. ‘Course, I’d keep your secret. Hell, I could get a pen-name and release music if I wanted to. We could be starving artists together!” Or, we could’ve been, if genetics hadn’t cursed me. I couldn’t tell Neku though, nobody wants to spend their last days in misery with moping friends.

It’s extraordinarily rare, for someone 15 years old, to get pancreatic cancer. I guess it’s just shit luck that I inherited it from my uncle, who died when I was five.

“Oh please, Josh, you’ll hardly be starving. Your parents are like, billionaires! Hell if we stick to that plan of getting an apartment together, we could just rely on that honestly ridiculous amount of money you have already. With that much money, I’m surprised you haven’t dyed your hair, it’s the same grey color as dirty dish-water.” He smirks at me, as I twirl a lock of that silver hair around my manicured finger.

“Now, dear, that’s not very nice. Next you’ll be telling me to wear colored contacts so my eyes aren’t violet.” Now it’s my turn to smirk in this play, going along with what I’ve scripted for our last meeting. I reach out and tap Neku on the nose, giggling.

“No! I would do no such thing! You’re eyes are really nice, actually!” It takes him a moment before realizing what he’d said, cheeks resembling roses in color. “I-I don’t mean it like _that_ , I just meant, from  the viewpoint of an artist, overall, you’re really unique, like your hair and eyes and body, and just, _you_. Not many people around here look like you.”

I raise an eyebrow, piercing him with a faux-serious gaze. “Oh, so you’re just using me for my body then? A perfect model for you to play with?”

“Josh! That’s not it at all and you know it!” he squawks, waving his hands in the air between us as I laugh.

“I know, I know, but it’s ever so fun to see you embarrassed, I just couldn’t resist!” I pause, thinking over my options before taking out a manila folder, tossing it and it’s contents over the table to Neku. “Here, I won’t be here for a bit, so you gotta wait till Wednesday to open that. Didn’t wanna miss your 16th birthday.” I artfully manage not to let the paper mask fall down off my face like the tears would if I stopped to let them. Neku’d know something’s wrong if I started crying, and if that happened I’d have to tell him and face the blinding wrath of an artist in despair. Not even someone with fire for hair and all the sky in their eyes can stop death.

“Wait, you’re missing my birthday?” He frowns, and I could almost laugh at the poetic irony in this. I could snap back with _Of course I am, I’ll be dead_ , or _Nah, my ghost will be there_ , but I don’t, because I don’t think I could handle seeing him cry because of me.

“Yeah, gettin’ dragged somewhere, you know how it goes.” With that, I stand, and wave. “That reminds me, I need to go pack. Bye, Neku.”

I don’t stick around to hear him ask questions or say goodbye back, fleeing out the door into the evening sun.

I wonder how Neku will react to the medical files in the folder, or the notes strewn all along the margins like love poems and heart doodles done in math class. No matter, I won’t be around to see him then, so I can only hope, like a blind man wishes to see the sun, that he’ll be fine in the end. The penthouse and the few hundred million dollars to my name that I’m leaving him might help too. He won’t be that starving artist he thought he’d be, at the very least, and that’s all I can assure for him in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Creative Writing class, a project on switching POV. Write a story, then switch POV and write it again. I'd love some feedback on this! Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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